


Smoke & Leaves

by novaband



Category: Bandstand - Oberacker/Oberacker & Taylor
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, donny smokes cigarettes, living the 1940s dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 06:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15090902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novaband/pseuds/novaband
Summary: A moment alone between a soprano and her pianist.





	Smoke & Leaves

        Autumns in Cleveland were always pretty. The leaves were always such brilliant colors; reds, oranges, and yellows were scattered across the yard, given that neither Julia nor Donny had the heart to rake them yet. _If there weren't enough to jump into_ , Donny had mused, _then what was the point of raking them_?

        There was a quiet stillness in the house that made Julia feel wary. She was used to the sound of the piano in the background, or at least the sound of a record going to keep both musicians content. The sudden disappearance of the piano genius himself was unsettling, but something spurred her to make her way to the front door, not bothering to slip on shoes despite the discomfort that was caused by walking on the wooden porch with only stockings on to protect her feet.

        The chill of the wind made her pull the navy cardigan she wore closer to her body. It was impossible to miss who she was looking for. Donny had made himself comfortable on the steps of the porch, a fresh cigarette between his lips. If Julia concentrated, she'd notice the slight tremor in his hand . . . though she'd never speak a word of it. Moments of tranquility were cherished when it came down to Donny. There was no cure for the trauma he'd endured for four years, but Julia wished she could freeze the moments in which the nightmares and panic attacks didn't plague him.

        Donny could hear careful footsteps behind him, light against the wood as though to avoid anything snagging and tearing. Gentle arms wrapped around his waist as someone joined him in the midst of his thoughts, long hair just barely tickling at his neck and the smell of roses and vanilla greeted his nose.

        He'd know that perfume anywhere.

        "I thought you could use some company," Julia began, her eyes still trained on the colorful leaves that covered the ground. She could hear Donny laugh, for a moment, the cigarette being gradually dragged from his mouth and the smoke dancing in the wind.

        He tapped the object against his finger to let the ash fall before giving his reply.

        "I needed the reminder that it gets cold outside — helps me sleep easier," came Donny's murmured response. The context was notably upsetting, given his history, and made Julia lift her head up out of worry. He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, whispering reassurances that he would be alright.

        The pair sat there for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence. Both of their eyes were trained on how the smoke was swept up into the air and danced among the leaves. It was a simplistic sight; there was no poetic meaning that Julia applied to it that would inevitably make Donny's head spin and see the world in a different way.

        There was something in _his_ mind, however, that made a connection. Perhaps the smoke was the war, constantly clouding his mind, and the leaves were meant to be himself. The smoke briefly disturbed their fall, but the wind would eventually pick the leaf back up again and allow it to rest on the ground.

        Julia would be his wind, wouldn't she? Unable to stop the memories from coming, yet willing to lift him back into the air and dance once they were gone. 

        Nothing could ever make it stop. He would never be the seventeen year old dancing among the prettiest girls he could find; then he'd been naïve. At least, for a little while, Donny was gifted with a break to be the twenty-four year old resting against the most beautiful _woman_ he'd ever seen, and that alone made him not seek his old life. If everything had gone back to normal, would he have taken the chance to start the band? Would he have ever had the courage to arrive at the address Michael had given him and meet Julia at all?

        The thought of not having Julia in his life made shivers go down his spine. Where would he be without her when he needed her by his side? The feeling left him when he heard a mumbled 'I love you', cluing him in to the fact that Julia was beginning to drift off to sleep against him. He didn't have the heart to shake her awake, instead leaving five kisses on her head and quietly reciting the three words back to her.

        His cigarette burnt out and he quickly crushed it against the step, deciding that throwing it away could wait until it grew too cold for either of them to be outside. Donny outright refused to disturb Julia's short nap, even if she'd scold him for letting her sleep so early.

        Twenty minutes passed him by and he began to feel the chill uncomfortably creep into his old wounds and renew their pain. Julia was slowly reopening her eyes, trembling due to the temperature drop. Their eyes met for a moment, communicating every little thought they had.

        Julia couldn't say that she would ever be used to the feeling of Donny's lips against hers. The feeling was electric, buzzing through her veins and giving her short boosts of courage. The kiss was what finally woke her up, warming her frozen lips back to their original state.

        They stood up with a reluctance, Julia's arms moving to wrap around one of Donny's arms instead of his waist. The return to the inside was slow, but the emergence of warmth flooding back into their bodies as the door closed was incredibly worth the end of the moment. Tomorrow, they'd sink back into their regular life, rehearsing endlessly for their next tour and groaning whenever Davy stopped to make a terrible, raunchy joke that would either make everyone crack up into bubbles of laughter or make Donny nearly bash his head against a wall in shame.

        That was tomorrow. Tonight, they'd sit together at the piano until Donny felt the rare tendrils of sleep pull at him, beckoning him under the warm blankets that were neatly folded on their bed, or until Julia grew to the point of pulling him to their bedroom so that she could at least fall asleep with his arms around her.

         _No_ , Donny thought as his fingers hit the ivory keys and Julia began to sing beside him, _I wouldn't trade this for the world_.

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of absolutely nowhere . . . mostly because I'm partially obsessed with Julia's numerous cardigan sweaters and the dynamic these two shared.


End file.
